


Do I Look Like...?

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [40]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: "About yesterday..." Crowley began.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley & Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 34
Kudos: 1332
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Do I Look Like...?

"About yesterday..." Crowley began.

Warlock gave him a wary look, seeded with fear. "You don't want me?"

Crowley scrubbed a hand over his face. "I do. I just... Listen. When I first met and fell in love with Aziraphale, I was involved with a bad crowd. We were on opposite sides of, well, everything, it felt like, and if anyone had caught us together... Well, let's just say that right after they _did_ find out, his place burned down." A muscle jumped in his jaw. "I thought I'd lost him. We're free of that now, but sometimes," he grimaced and shoved his glasses firmly up his nose, "sometimes, on rough days, instincts from then resurface. I forgot for a moment that we were safe and reacted - well, you saw how I reacted."

"Yeah." Warlock picked at the cuff of their sweater. "Thought you were getting rid of me."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Warlock shrugged, indifference masking pain. "Everyone else has."

"Toast's burning," Crowley warned them.

Warlock whipped round and snatched the slices clear of the heat, tossing them onto a plate and blowing on their fingers. "That's not an answer."

Crowley sighed, shifting in the kitchen chair to mask his own pain. "Fine. Because I refuse to do to you what my folk did to me, ok? Happy now? Can we talk about something else?"

Warlock just gave him a long look.

Aziraphale, just arriving in the kitchen doorway, also gave Crowley a look.

He sighed, and sagged in his chair, then shoved Aziraphale's chair out for him with his foot. "M'sorry," he mumbled as his angel sat down too.

"S'ok," Warlock muttered back.

None of them mentioned the number of times Crowley had woken in the night screaming for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale helped himself to toast and then pointedly pushed a slice of toast in Crowley's direction.

Crowley took it with resignation. "You won't lay off until I eat, will you?"

"No," Aziraphale said with cheerful bastardry.

"Ngk. Ugh. _Fine_..."

***

Dr Fell, the students noticed, seemed much the same as usual, apart from needing a stick to get around. It caught their notice and they fussed around him, since it was just a temporary measure. They trailed after him, carrying his books, opening doors, and generally protecting him. If his phone buzzed with more texts than usual, they put that down to other worried students, rather than his husband checking in. He did wax on a little about Dear Anthony, but that was also normal. Yet when they listened closely to his tales and compared them to the claim laid on him, the claim came up short.

Dear Anthony was kind. He was caring. He protected people. They took that knowledge and looked at Dr Crowley, with his mocking saunter. With the vicious edge to his voice and his smile (such a thin smile it was like a razor), and the snarled words, snapped out at people as well as plants. With a glare strong enough to scare even through dark glasses. When did Dr Crowley ever protect anyone or defend anyone from harm? (Only the lift-users. Only a threatened young person) When was he ever kind, or gentle, or encouraging? (Only to a lost, hurt child. Only to a scared infiltrator. Only to a sore-footed stranger) He didn't even give out praise except grudgingly (every drop treasured, prized, and striven for).

No, the general consensus ran, Dr Crowley and Dear Anthony had nothing in common, except perhaps a name. It wasn't going to be fooled by the handful of people who disagreed (they only knew him, after all), it was going to go by what they had all seen and heard. And hadn't everyone heard the rumour that Dear Anthony wasn't real? Perhaps he was, and perhaps he wasn't. But since Dear Anthony was so nice, and Dr Crowley had flat out declared that he himself was never nice, what could they do but take him at his word on that?


End file.
